


Don't F*ck With Time

by minerva__mcgee



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Marauders Era (Harry Potter), Oh Harry Fucks Up For Real This Time, Time Turner (Harry Potter), harry fucks up
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-07
Updated: 2020-06-16
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:08:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24595804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/minerva__mcgee/pseuds/minerva__mcgee
Summary: Something compels Harry to use Hermione's Time Turner after they free Sirius Black. He lands in a time he did not expect, and is given opportunities he only dreamed of.
Relationships: Albus Dumbledore/Minerva McGonagall, Hermione Granger & Harry Potter, Marauders & Harry Potter, Marauders & Minerva McGonagall, Minerva McGonagall & Harry Potter
Comments: 1
Kudos: 39





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, everyone!
> 
> I'm so excited for this story! Something to note: the Time Turner in this story has been given stronger powers. You can potentially turn back as far as you wish. You'll see just how far back you can end up. And you can change the future, unlike in Prisoner of Azkaban. This story's Time Turner will follow closer to The Cursed Child's Time Turner rules than the main-series. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

Hermione gave Harry’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze as she told the Fat Lady the password and the portrait swung open in front of them. She stepped through first, and a few moments later, he followed. The common room was empty – everyone was upstairs, asleep, and Harry was grateful for the bit of quiet.

The day had proven eventful and long. He and Hermione had gone back in time to save Sirius Black and Buckbeak, the former whom he learned didn’t actually betray his parents, but Peter Pettigrew did, who was living disguised as Ron’s pet rat and faked his death … He wondered how much crazier his life could possibly get as he threw himself onto the common room couch. Hermione sat next time, picking up his feet and placing them on her lap. They sat together in a comfortable silence, listening to each other breathe as the adrenaline coursing through their veins calmed down. She leaned her head on the back of the couch and closed her eyes for a moment, drawing a deep breath before opening them again and looking at Harry.

“How are you feeling?” she said, placing a hand on his ankle.

Harry moved to sit up, but left his legs on Hermione’s lap. “I’m okay, I think. I can’t believe we saved them. How come you never told me about the Time Turner?”

She smiled at him. “Professor McGonagall made me promise that I wouldn’t tell _anyone_ , including you and Ron. I’m sorry. I wanted to, but it was for the best. She got special permission from the Ministry for me to be able to use this.” Hermione took it off and set it in front of them on the coffee table, and Harry picked it up to examine it closer. This was the first time he had ever seen a Time Turner, or given them much thought, really – Professor Lupin had discussed them briefly in class once, but other than that, he never thought he’d see one in person. The hourglass in the center had sand so white it could have blinded him. It was attached to two golden rings, the inner of which could freely spin around inside the outer. Attached to the outer ring was the chain, and a little dial, which he knew had to be turned in order to travel through time.

Harry noticed a little crack in the hourglass, and looked to Hermione to ask a question, but she was fast asleep, curled up under his feet. He sighed and pulled the blanket off of the back of the couch and laid it across her legs. Running his finger over the tiny crack, he pulled the chain over his head, recognizing that if he dropped it, it could break. Harry decided it was best that he _didn’t_ destroy Ministry property. There was a big enough target on his head as it was.

Reaching up to his face to take off his glasses, he leaned his head against the back of the couch, glasses in one hand, and the Time Turner in the other. He let his eyes drift shut, but found that he could not sleep.

Suddenly, Harry heard a whisper and shot his head up to look around, finding no one except the now lightly-snoring Hermione. It wasn’t the first time Harry had heard voices, but he couldn’t make out what it was saying it first. The voice sounded female this time. Young. Clear. A voice he hadn’t heard before.

As the voice continued to whisper, it became louder until he could make out what it was chanting.

_Turn. Turn._

He felt the Time Turner heat up in his hand, though he wasn’t sure at first whether that was from prolonged exposure to his body heat. Harry decided the two must be connected as the disembodied voice grew closer, until it was whispering directly in his ear.

Harry put his glasses back on and stared at the Time Turner. He felt it buzzing and growing hotter in his hands, and the voice whispered more hurriedly.

As if he didn’t have control, Harry felt his hands move toward the dial and start turning. It spun madly as he fiddled with it, turning it and turning it as if his life depended on it. When he stopped turning it, he took one last glance at Hermione before the world turned upside down.

The red sofa caught him as Harry slammed back into the couch. Hermione was no where to be seen, and the common room looked a little different. Things looked newer. The radio that typically sat on the fireplace mantle was no where to be seen. He looked around and caught the eye of a portrait, who whispered to the one next to him, and so on until every portrait in the Gryffindor common room was staring at him.

“What did the Potter boy do to his eyes?” one, a woman in a long red cape and jet black hair, whispered to the next.

“No, that’s not James Potter, look at the scar on his head!” the man in a windowsill snapped back at her.

“James Potter?” said Harry, thoroughly confused. “James Potter is dead. He’s been dead for years!”

After a moment of confused silence, the portraits started laughing together.

“Oh, that’s a good try, James!” said the portrait of woman holding a sword and wearing a suit of armor, “But you can’t fool us old broads – at least not for too long. Go to bed, child!”

Harry, completely confused, decided that it was best that he did go to bed and get some sleep, for this is likely just a strange dream. He walked over to the boys staircase and was promptly thrown backwards across the room by some sort of ward, and landed on his butt. Staring at the ceiling, he rubbed his elbow and moaned in pain.

“Bloody hell,” he muttered, sitting up.

“He’s not a student!” One of the portraits yelled, and suddenly there was murmur amongst the paintings that was only getting louder. In a panicked decision, he got up and ran out of the room through the Fat Lady’s portrait and sprinted down the hallway.

Harry just kept running, with no real destination in mind. He winded through the hallways of Hogwarts, trying to figure out where the hell he was.

 _When,_ he corrected himself mentally, When _the hell am I?_

His thought process was cut short as he rounded a corner and slammed straight into something in the hallway at full speed, knocking him onto the ground and whatever it was into the wall behind it.

_“Potter!”_ the voice shrieked, and he recognized it as Professor McGonagall’s. When he looked up at her, he realized his glasses had fallen off. He felt around for them and put them on his face, the lens broken.

Harry knew that his Head of House could hold a mean glare, and this was no exception. But as he studied her face further and his eyes adjusted to the dim lighting and the crack in the glass, he saw that she did not have as many wrinkles in her face and her head did not hold the specks of grey that they normally did.

“Professor McGonagall!” he shouted greatly, relieved, “Thank Merlin you’re here!”

“Fifty points from Gryffindor!” she declared, reaching out a hand to help him on his feet. He really did look piteous. “Why in the world are you running around the castle making a ruckus in the middle of the night?”

“Professor, something strange has happened, and I need your help – “

“My office, now,” she turned on her heel without giving him another look. He followed behind her solemnly, completely grateful that he could maybe figure out when he was and how to get back to his own time. _If McGonagall is here, then I can’t be too far back. And the portraits knew who my dad was, so I’ve got to be between my time and when he was at Hogwarts._

When they reached the portrait of Godric Gryffindor and it swung open to them, he finally got the nerve to open his mouth.

“Professor McGonagall, do you happen – do you happen to know what the date is?”

She called over her shoulder as she organized a stack of papers on her desk. “September 24th. _Very early_ September 24th. Why?”

“I think,” he said slowly, “I think I really messed up this time, Professor McGonagall.”


	2. Chapter 2

Finally, she turned to look at him, now in the light of her office. She sucked in her breath when she saw a piercing set of green eyes staring back at her instead of the muted hazel she was expecting. Her eyes flickered up to the lightning-shaped scar on his forehead, wondering if she was really getting so old that she would have missed that for the last two years, deciding that although he bore a striking resemblance to James Potter, this was _not_ him.

In a move so quick it almost made Harry fall over again, she pointed her wand directly between his eyes. “Who are you? Where is James Potter?”

“My name is Harry,” he said, raising his empty hands in the air next to his head, “Professor McGonagall, what year is it?”

She eyed him cautiously. “It’s 1973. Why don’t you know that?”

Harry closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, before locking eyes with the professor once again. “My name is Harry Potter. I was born in 1980. I did something really stupid, and woke up in the Gryffindor common room. James Potter … he goes here? Now?”

Minerva McGonagall never took her eyes off of him, not even to blink. “James Potter goes to this school now. I thought you were him –“ a thought popped into her head, “There’s a reason you look so much like James, isn’t there? You said you were born in 1980?”

He swallowed a lump in his throat and nodded. “My parents are James and Lily Potter.”

She lowered her wand a bit. “Not Lily Evans?”

“Lily Evans,” he confirmed. “I came here from the April 1994. I am in Gryffindor House. The Headmaster is Albus Dumbledore. You are the Deputy Headmistress and the head of Gryffindor House – “

“Stop,” she raised a hand to him, silencing him at once, “Stop, Mr. Potter. I need to get the Headmaster in here now. You sit right there – “ she pointed at a chair opposite her desk, “and don’t touch _anything._ If what you say is true, you do not say anything more about the future to me or to anyone. Have I made myself clear?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said carefully, watching her as she stepped into the room next door. He heard the fireplace roar with flames and the hushed voices of Albus Dumbledore and Minerva McGonagall talking seriously.

A moment later, the two stepped back into the room together. While McGonagall was clearly twenty years younger, Professor Dumbledore looked the same now as he does in Harry’s time. The normal twinkle in his eyes was gone, and he looked very concerned at him.

“Hello, Harry, is it?” he said, trying to keep his voice light but failing, “I’m Professor Dumbledore.”

“Yes, we know each other quite well in my time,” said Harry. “I’d go as far to call you my friend, Professor.”

Dumbledore smiled at him sadly. “Can I ask how you got here?”

“Well,” said Harry, reaching into his shirt and pulling out the Time Turner that was still hanging around his neck. He looked at it and realized that the sand had completely disappeared from the hourglass. The tiny crack had turned into a missing chunk of glass, and Harry shook his shirt, sand falling out of the bottom. “This Time Turner.”

Professor Dumbledore took it in his hand and examined it, looking up at Harry very seriously. “Harry, how did you get this Time Turner? Did you steal it?”

“No! No, no, Professor McGonagall gave it to my friend, Hermione, so she could take more classes – “

“Stop!” Dumbledore’s voice boomed. “Stop. Say nothing about the future. Absolutely nothing. I’m sorry I asked you that question. It was my fault, but I must implore you, Harry, that your very presence in this time could rip apart the fabric of time and change the future dramatically.”

“Albus,” said McGonagall slowly, grabbing at her wand again and raising it toward Harry, “are you sure we should trust the boy? I mean, I wouldn’t do something as _reckless_ as giving a student a Time Turner. How can we know he’s telling the truth?”

Dumbledore looked over to her. “He’s telling the truth, Minerva. I would swear to it.” He turned back to Harry. “My boy, it is vital that you say nothing about the future to anyone until we can send you back. What seems like a trivial change here could undermine the future in many different ways. Be careful with what you say and who you say it to. Am I making myself clear?”

Harry gulped, but nodded knowingly. “I understand, Professor. The thing is – I don’t know how to get back.”

McGonagall and Dumbledore shared another look, having a silent conversation right in front of Harry. It was McGonagall who spoke first.

“Harry, do you mind staying here while we go and try to work something out? I have a spare room here that you can stay in for the night until we figure out how to send you back to the future.”

“Yes, of course, Professor. Thank you for letting me stay here. I’ll do my best to stay quiet and not bother anyone. But, Professors, I, well, it was rather an eventful day in my timeline, and I didn’t get the chance to eat dinner – “

They smiled at him. “I will ask one of the house elves to send up a plate of food and some pumpkin juice. Get some rest, Potter,” she said. He smiled at her and disappeared into the room that she showed him. The door closed behind him, and Harry listened as Professor McGonagall asked a house elf for a dinner plate. Footsteps disappeared into where the Professor had said her private rooms were and a door closed quietly. The appearance of his meal startled Harry out of his thoughts, and he tucked into the grilled chicken, mixed vegetables, and mashed potatoes that sat in front of him. There was a glass of water and a goblet of pumpkin juice that he downed, trying not to listen in on Dumbledore and McGonagall’s conversation. He knew that if it was necessary for him to know, they would tell him.

Minerva locked the door behind her and cast a muffling charm around her room so that they could talk without Harry hearing. She reached over and pulled Albus into her arms, planting a deep kiss on his lips. They held each other for a moment, listening to the other breathe. She rested her head on his shoulder. “That poor boy,” Minerva finally said.

“Indeed,” he ran his hand up and down her back soothingly. They pulled out of the hug and looked at each other. Minerva went to sit down on the foot of the bed, which was messy, considering she was pulled out of it in the middle of the night.

“James Potter and Lily Evans,” he smiled, nudging her with his shoulder.

She returned his smile. “I guess she finally gives into him, doesn’t she? He has her eyes.”

“That he does.”

“Albus … do you know of any way that we can send him back to his own time without raising any alarm?”

He thought deeply for a while, racking his brain for any possible solution. “I have no idea, Minerva,” he finally admitted gravely, “I am truly at a loss for this.”

Minerva silently grabbed his arm as he sat down next to her and leaned into him. “We could talk to the Ministry, and I could do research in the library. Perhaps the portraits in your office might have some information.”

Albus hummed in agreement. “You know that we will not be able to find the solution, just you and I. We are likely going to have to bring other people into this situation in order to send the boy back.”

“Like who?” Minerva stood up again, and began pacing the floor in front of the bed. It was something Albus had seen her do time and time before, and the rug seemed to be worn down where she walked. He smiled a bit to himself. “Albus, if the Ministry were to get involved, he could be thrown into Azkaban for the rest of his life! They wouldn’t try to send him back! He’s just a boy!”

He stood up and wrapped his arms around her again. Minerva’s nerves settled as she leaned into the embrace. “I shall talk to Horace about it. Perhaps there is a potion that I am unaware of, and I could talk to Professor Bulb about it – “

“Absolutely not,” she looked up into his eyes, “That man is the most incompetent Defense professor we have had since I began teaching here.”

Minerva’s detest for Wilford Bulb was not unknown to the Hogwarts staff. Of all of the Defense Against the Dark Arts professors that Hogwarts has seen since Minerva arrived, he was by far the worst. An incident in the Great Hall that involved a lot of one-sided flirting and a rogue hand, as well as the number of students who came to her for help in Defense because they didn’t understand what he was saying, has squandered any chance for a friendship she might have had with the old man. Albus gave her a sad smile.

“Yes, well,” he pondered, “I shall talk to Horace about it. Maybe Poppy will have some information as well. You find Irma and discuss it, but you should refrain from telling her exactly what is going on. The less people who know, the better.”

He moved over to the bed and sat down on his side, pulling her down with him. They laid comfortably together in silence, knowing that they next day, there would be a lot of work to be done.


	3. Chapter 3

“Professor, how long do you think I’m going to be stuck here?”

Harry looked at Professor McGonagall over their dinner. It had become a routine in the week that he had lived in her spare room to eat breakfast and dinner together so that Harry doesn’t become too lonely – not that it was working terribly well, but he appreciated the sentiment. He had always liked Professor McGonagall. After all, she bought him his first broom.

She looked at him over the rim of her glasses before taking them off and setting them to the side. Minerva folded her arms across her chest and leaned forward, resting them against the dining table. “I honestly have no idea, Harry,” she said sadly. He slumped forward. “I wish I had a better answer for you. I’m sorry.”

The fireplace glowed green and Albus Dumbledore stepped out of the flames. He noticed the solemn air and pulled a chair up next to Harry quietly, putting his hand on Harry’s.

“Do _you_ know how long I’ll be stuck here?” Harry asked Dumbledore. He looked to Minerva for help, but her eyes were trained on Harry.

“Why don’t you tell me more about the moments before you traveled back here?” he said.

Harry leaned back in his chair. “Well, I was laying on the couch in the Gryffindor common room. We had –“ he remembered their warning about not discussing the future – “we had a long day, so my friend and I had just gotten back to the Gryffindor tower. I was holding her Time Turner, and she was asleep next to me, and I heard a voice.”

“A voice?” Minerva sat up straighter. “What voice?”

“I don’t know,” he said honestly, “it was a girl’s voice. Definitely younger. I had never heard the voice before.”

“What did it say?”

Harry closed his eyes, trying to hear it again. “It said, _turn, turn_ , over and over again. I could hear it getting closer. At first it sounded like a whisper from across the room, and then it was whispering directly in my ear. But there was no one else in the common room except me and Hermione.”

Dumbledore nodded. “That is strange. What happened next?”

“The Time Turner started to get hot, and it buzzed,” he looked at his hand, remembering the feeling, “and I just started turning the dial over and over again. Then I landed in the Gryffindor common room. The portraits thought I was my dad, and honestly, I thought I was dreaming, so I tried to go up to my dorm but I was thrown back. Then I ran into Professor McGonagall in the hallway.”

They were quiet for a few moments, taking in all of the information. “And you said you have no idea whose voice it was?” said Dumbledore.

Harry confirmed. “No idea. Can I tell you guys something personal?”

McGonagall and Dumbledore leaned closer to him. “Of course you can, Harry,” said Professor McGonagall, “as long as you aren’t revealing anything about the future.”

“It’s about that, actually,” he took a deep breath, “I just – it’s getting really hard. I miss my friends, and don’t get me wrong, I’m really grateful you’ve taken me in. I just wish I could be around people more.”

McGonagall reached out and squeezed his hand, giving him a smile. Dumbledore leaned back in his chair in thought.

“It’s going to be alright, Harry,” she said quietly, “we’ll figure something out.”

It was interesting for Harry to see this other side of his usually-stern Professor that he was used to. Her features were softer, though he wasn’t sure if that was because of her lighter demeanor or the fact that she is twenty-one years younger than he’s always known her to be. He wondered if she seemed that way because she hadn’t felt the loss of the war yet.

“Well,” mused Dumbledore, “perhaps we could … make arrangements.”

“What kind of arrangements?” Harry sat up excitedly.

“Yes, Albus, what kind of arrangements?” Her voice had become sharper.

Professor Dumbledore smiled at Harry. “Well, perhaps, as long as you are careful, we could enroll you into Hogwarts. I see no reason why you cannot continue your education in your third year as a Gryffindor.”

“Really? I can?”

“Albus!” Minerva shot to her feet. “You cannot see a reason why? I can see a thousand reasons why! That would be completely reckless, not to mention how it could _ruin the fabric of time_ if he were to let something slip!”

“Can I meet my parents?” Harry ignored Professor McGonagall’s outburst, and plead straight to the Headmaster. “I’ve always wanted to meet them! Even getting to spend just a little time with them would be all I’ve ever wanted. Please, Professor.”

They both went silent and stared at him. “What do you mean, ‘you’ve always wanted to meet them’? You’ve never met them?”

“Oh,” said Harry, reaching up to cover his mouth, “Oh, oh I wasn’t supposed to say that.”

“No,” said Dumbledore, staring down at his hands, tears pricking at the back of his eyes, “No, you weren’t supposed to say that.”

McGonagall slowly sat back down in her chair, the tears in the corners of her eyes threatening to break free. “Well, I guess now that we know that – what happened to Lily and James?”

Harry swallowed the lump in his throat, trying to decide whether or not he should say anything. _Well, we’ve come this far._

“Voldemort came into our home one night and killed them personally. He – he shot a killing curse at me, but it rebounded and hit him. That’s how the war ended, and that’s how I got this scar.”

“No one has _ever_ survived a killing curse. It is impossible, Harry.”

“I know. But I did.”

The words hung in the air as Professor McGonagall finally started crying, and even more surprisingly, pulled Harry into a hug.

Albus reached over and put a hand on Minerva’s shoulder. “Let the boy know his parents, Minerva.” 

She nodded, pulling out of the hug. She put her hand on Harry’s cheek. “Welcome to Gryffindor.”

Harry followed Professor McGonagall to the Gryffindor common room. They stopped together outside of the Fat Lady’s portrait, and she turned to him. “Are you ready? Do you remember everything that we talked about?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said, not completely sure that he remember everything that they talked about.

“Follow me,” she walked through the portrait, and everyone in the common room turned to look at them. Professor McGonagall instructed the prefects to gather everyone from the house that was here, and to make sure all of the third years were present.

A moment later, Harry looked at the stairs of the girls’ dormitory and saw a girl with fire-red hair coming down and green eyes that could pierce your soul.

Lily Evans.

_Mum._

He watched her closely, eventually catching her eye. Lily regarded him and he watched as her eyes flicked up to the scar on his head. If only she knew that she would be the one to save his life, leaving him only with this scar. She gave him a big, toothy smile from across the room.

“Is everyone here?” said Professor McGonagall, doing a mental head count, “Alright, good. This is Harry – “ she paused, realizing that she _couldn’t_ say his last name was Potter, and that they had missed this vital piece of information when coming up with his story.

“G – Granger,” he stuttered out to her, quick enough that no one caught the slip. “Harry Granger.”

He mentally kicked himself for not being smart enough to come up with a completely new last name.

“Harry Granger,” she repeated with a small smile, “he is coming to us from the American wizarding school of Ilvermorny.”

“Hi, everyone,” he said with a smile and a nervous wave.

“You don’t sound American,” piped a girl who was standing next to Lily, towering over her by several inches.

“Oh, no, I’m not American. I moved to America a few years ago for my parents’ job, and then they got transferred back here, so I decided to move schools. I’m from here, though.” The girl looked at him skeptically, but didn’t say anything else.

“Yes, Mr. Granger will be a third year, living in the boys dormitory and attending classes with the third years. He was sorted into Gryffindor just hours ago. I know that you all will be kind and welcome him into our house,” McGonagall turned to face him and lowered her voice so only he could hear, “and I trust you will let either myself or Professor Dumbledore know if you run into any problems.”

“Yes, ma’am,” said Harry. A second later, the portrait burst open and a few bodies came flying through, crashing into the Professor and Harry, knocking Harry off his feet. McGonagall was able to catch herself, but the person who crashed into her was no so fortunate. “ _Black!_ ” she shrieked at the boy laying at her feet.

Meanwhile, Harry found himself underneath the weight of another person, both of whom had lost their glasses. They fumbled around for both sets, and put them on. Harry realized first that he had the wrong pair, and reached up to yank his glasses off of the other boy. He came into focus, and Harry realized he was looking right at James Potter.

He saw the confusion in his father’s face. “Wait. I don’t think we’ve met.”

“You might have a proper introduction if you _get off of him_ , James,” said a familiar voice from behind James. Harry looked past him and saw Remus Lupin, who pushed James off of Harry with his foot and offered Harry his hand.

The two clobbered to their feet. Harry heard Remus, Sirius, and he was sure Peter Pettigrew gasp behind him. “Oh my god, you two look so much alike!” said Sirius, still on the floor at McGonagall’s feet.

James studied Harry’s face for a moment. “What are you talking about, Sirius?”

“Uh, you guys look identical,” said Peter, coming closer to the two.

“What in Merlin’s name were you doing running in here like this?” snapped McGonagall, drawing them all away from Harry’s face, for which he was grateful.

The four boys shared a look. It was Sirius who spoke first.

“Well, Professor, you see – “ he started, but a shriek and a few explosions came from the hallway outside of the common room.

McGonagall sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose with her thumb and forefinger. “I’m just going to go ahead and give you four a week’s worth of detention and take fifty points from Gryffindor right now. This is Harry Granger, a new student who just arrived from Ilvermorny. He’s in your year and moving into your dorm.” With that, she left the common room and could be heard calming down the portraits in the hallway until the Fat Lady’s portrait slammed shut behind her, leaving them in silence.

Once McGonagall left, many of the Gryffindors dispersed back to whatever they were doing before, but the four boys stood around Harry and walked around him in a circle, examining him.

“So, Granger,” said Sirius, stopping in front of him, “do you really think that you’re worthy to be in Gryffindor?”

Harry blinked a few times. “I’d like to think so.”

They continued staring at each other for a few minutes, Sirius getting just inches from Harry’s face and narrowing his eyes. He could see that behind Sirius, the other three boys had leaned in close to them, all staring Harry down hard. A smile broke out on James’ face, and he patted Sirius on the back.

“I think we can take him in, Sirius,” said Remus, “I think he’s worthy of being of us, if I do say so myself.”

“I’m inclined to agree, Remus, darling,” Sirius was acting rather dramatically, and pulled away from Harry with a shit-eating grin on his face. “Come on, Harry, we’ll show you to our dormitory!”


End file.
